


Everything to Nothing

by burymeinziam



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Zayn, Jealousy, M/M, Zayn-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:43:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burymeinziam/pseuds/burymeinziam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based off of this prompt: Liam and Zayn are in a relationship and Zayn's super possessive and a bit jealous. One night they go out with the boys and meet a guy who's clearly interested in Liam, so Zayn gets all territorial and ends up making a scene causing Liam to break up with him. Zayn doesn't tell Liam he's sorry or begs him to take him back but instead starts to pick up strangers in bars and getting drunk which causes problems within the band. End it however you want and make it really angsty please =)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything to Nothing

He can still see the look in Liam’s eyes whenever he turns everything off and lets his mind wander. It’s the first thing to appear behind his eyelids and it’s like it’s happening all over again. That look of disbelief and disappointment and, worst of all, fear. Liam looked at him as if he didn’t know him; like Zayn was a stranger he’d never seen before in his life.

That was the worst part of it all.

+

“Wake up.”

Zayn’s face is smashed against a pillow and his head is pounding and he’s sure there’re a couple aspirin and a glass of water waiting for him on the carpet next to the mattress he’d collapsed on the night before.

“Mmff.” Is all Zayn can really manage to get out when he presses his face further into his bed and he’s sure he can feel a bit of moisture from where he’d drooled onto his pillow case.

“It’s four in the afternoon, Zayn. You can’t lie in bed all day.”

He knows that Harry is right because it’s all Zayn seems to do anymore: lie in bed all day and fuck the night away while he’s blissed out on drugs and drowning in alcohol. It’s a shitty lifestyle and it can’t be healthy and all it really does is make Zayn sad when he thinks about it but while it’s happening, while he’s out there swaying mindlessly to music that makes his head pound all wrapped up in a boy he hardly knows the name of, Zayn just feels numb and that’s what he’s chasing after.

“But I can,” Zayn mumbles into his pillow. “That’s the thing, Harry; I can.”

Harry sighs and Zayn almost thinks he can see him running an exasperated hand through that wild mop of hair on his head. He’s this close to giving in and climbing out of bed for a cup of coffee and maybe a shower just to make Harry feel better (because Zayn kind of feels like an asshole for making his friend worry) but his limbs ache and his head is pounding and Zayn knows the sun is out and pouring in through the shitty curtains he’d bought to cover the one window in his apartment.

“Zayn…”

Harry’s voice is weak now and he’s this close to begging, Zayn can sense it.

And this is something Zayn doesn’t want to deal with. The anger and the fear and the disappointment; the worry in his friend’s voices because he’s drowning in this mess of a life he’s created for himself. Zayn doesn’t want to deal with it at all. He only wants to sink down a little further; just until he can no longer hear their voices.

“Piss off, Harry,” Zayn groans as he rolls over to face the wall. He opens his eyes and sees white. Just the white of the wall and it’s void and empty not unlike the rest of the apartment and it’s like nobody even lives there.

There’s another sigh on Harry’s end, the hesitation of another attempt at getting Zayn out of bed, and then a short pause before Zayn can hear the clack of Harry’s boots as he moves to leave the apartment.

The door closes and Zayn is alone.

He goes back to sleep.

+

The first time Zayn saw Liam it was like the life had been knocked out of him and then thrust back inside and everything Zayn saw, every breath of air that filled his lungs, was Liam and that was the way it would always be. And Zayn was fine with that.

And there was the X Factor and One Direction and album signings and tours and fame and it all got so mixed up and chaotic and sometimes Zayn didn’t know what to do. He was just as simple kid from Bradford who had planned on becoming an English Teacher. Zayn was quiet and quirky and a little bit introverted and shy. He didn’t know what to do with all of the cameras and the attention.

But through it all there was always Liam with a kind smile and a gentle hand to Zayn’s shoulder or the small of his back and it was always accompanied by a few kind words that let Zayn know that everything was okay.

Liam was a constant. He was beautiful and he was home.

+

If Zayn gets Niall drunk enough he’ll smoke with him, but first Zayn has to get Niall to drink with him and that’s the hardest part.

He’d planned on hitting up one of the clubs downtown but by the time Zayn had woken up after Harry had left it was close to 7:30 and his head was still sort of pounding and Zayn wasn’t sure he could deal with the bass. A pub was out of the question because they always smelled like grease and the guys there like to talk and Zayn wasn’t too sure he wanted to deal with life stories and one night commitments.

He wanted something easy and simple and since he wasn’t in the mood to find a warm body Zayn figured he could find that with Niall.

Because Niall didn’t ask questions and when he looked at Zayn he at least tried to mask the worry and the disappointment.

And if Zayn tried hard enough it was like it wasn’t there at all.

“I’m not visiting the market for you,” Niall tells him over the phone. “Not for that at least; I hope you know.”

Zayn groaned over the line, took a swig of the beer he’d just taken out of the fridge. “I can’t believe you’d—” he pauses, sets the beer down on the carpet in front of him and lifts his cigarette from the ash tray. “I just want to hang out, Niall; see a friendly face and all that.”

Zayn is guilt tripping him and he knows it. He knows Niall has been feeling a bit shit lately because Louis and Harry say he’s enabling Zayn by visiting the shit hole apartment he’s confined himself to. He knows Niall may just crack soon and put his foot down; tell Zayn that he needs to get his shit together because he can’t keep hiding away in this one room apartment. Sooner or later he’s going to have to face himself; look in the mirror and acknowledge whatever it is he’s become.

The thing is, though, Zayn doesn’t even know. He doesn’t even know who he is anymore.

“I’ll be over in twenty.”

+

There was a night in a hotel room. Liam had just broken up with Danielle and Zayn was just feeling lonely and they were sat in Liam’s room with a pint of ice cream and a deck of cards.

Liam had looked at him while Zayn was shuffling and his eyes were bright and a little bit shiny and Zayn couldn’t help but to think that Liam was the most handsome thing he’d ever seen in his life. He’d let the cards go idle in his hands and he’d tilted his head a bit to the side as he drank Liam in before he closed his eyes and sighed because Liam was something Zayn just couldn’t have.

It’s just. It’s just that Liam was looking at him like he thought Zayn was something beautiful too. Like he was seeing Zayn for the first time and realizing that he was worth something; like Zayn was something special and maybe everything happens for a reason. Maybe they’d been on the X Factor at the same time for a reason and there was some sort of plan, a plan made just for them, behind them being put into this boy band together and it wasn’t just for fame and money but so they could find each other. Liam was looking at Zayn the way Zayn sometimes caught himself looking at Liam and he was just imagining things or if that wasn’t the actual case Zayn wasn’t sure he could deal with that.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” Zayn said.

“Like what?” Liam asked. “Look at you like what?”

It’s like he loves him or he thinks he loves him or like he cares more than he knows he should, but Zayn can’t say any of those words due to the possibility of them being true or untrue because either way the outcome will change everything.

So he shrugged his shoulders, went back to shuffling the cards as he forced out a breath of laughter. “Like nothing,” Zayn said and pushed the ice cream toward Liam. “Eat some ice cream and forget I said anything, yeah?”

“Like I like you?” Liam asked. “Like I think you’re beautiful?”

And Zayn’s heart stopped because this wasn’t really happening. Perfect things like Liam didn’t just fall into his lap like that. Zayn already had so much, more than he really thought he deserved, and Liam was his best friend. Zayn already had so much, so more wasn’t even an option. But there it was: more. There was Liam looking at Zayn like he meant it and it’s was real as the cards sitting in Zayn’s hands and the ice cream melting in the tub on the bed and the air filling Zayn’s lungs.

“Yeah,” Zayn answered, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Like that.”

+

It’s been six months and Zayn talk to anyone. He’ll say hello and he’ll make small talk, maybe tell one of the guys about his day but he doesn’t  _talk._ Nobody knows what’s going on in Zayn’s head and by the looks of it it’s always swimming. People look at Zayn and see storm clouds and the promise of thunder and lightning.

It’s been six months and Zayn really hasn’t said a word.

When Niall knocks on the door Zayn shouts that it’s open and when he steps inside the apartment looks exactly the same as when Niall had walked out the previous week.

“I swear, Zayn,” He says, shutting the door behind him. “I’ll never understand why you stay in this tiny shithole of an apartment.”

Zayn’s sprawled out on the floor next to his mattress staring up at the ceiling, a cigarettes dangling between his lips. There’s a half empty beer next to the ashtray and Niall sort of wonders how long Zayn has been lying there, but he’s sure he doesn’t really want to know.

“Sometimes, if you listen really closely,” Zayn says. “You can hear them fucking.”

Niall raises his brows, surprised that these are the first words Zayn chooses to speak out loud. “Okay…”

Zayn tugs the cigarette from his lips, exhales smoke, and puts it out in the ashtray.

“When it’s late and I’m here by myself sometimes I lie there and listen to them. I’ll hear her moaning and him grunting and the steady  _thump, thump, thump_ of the headboard against the wall. He’ll tell her how good she feels and she’ll beg him to keep going ‘ _harder_ ,’ she’ll say ‘ _fuck me harder_ ’” Zayn pauses, looks down at his beer and drags his finger around the rim of the bottle. “They’ll go on for what feels like hours and it’s so fucking dirty and filthy and, Jesus, I swear Niall the things they say to each other…”

“Zayn…” Niall isn’t sure what brought this on or why Zayn decided to say all of this as soon as Niall walked in the door, but it’s the first honest thing he’s said to anyone in six months. It’s the first time he’s said anything that even resembled the truth or gave anyone an inkling as to what was going on in his head and Niall just wants to know that Zayn is okay.

“It’s love, you know,” Zayn says, lolling his head to the side so he’s looking at Niall now. “I bring guys back here and fuck them just as loudly. They beg me for more and harder and they scream my name, or whatever they think my name is for the night, but it’s not the same.”

“What are you… Zayn, are you okay?”

“Last night, Niall. They were so fucking loud and I could hear the headboard pounding against these paper fucking walls and, that guy, he sounding like a goddamned animal and I wanted to cry it was so beautiful. Because that’s love,” Zayn says. “That’s the difference between them and me. We’re all filthy and dirty and harder and faster and more, but when they look at each other after or when they wake up together the next morning they want to be there. That’s the difference. They want each other when it’s all over…”

It’s quiet and Niall is about to speak when the pair of them hear giggling through the paper thin walls and then the quiet moan of a woman. Niall turns to look at Zayn and he’s lighting another cigarette, the expression on his face unreadable.

“Zayn—” Niall starts, but he doesn’t finish.

“I think you should go,” Zayn tells him, taking a drag off of his cigarette and exhaling a ring of smoke. “I don’t think I want to hang out anymore.”

+

“I love you.”

It’s the first time either of them have said the words and Liam isn’t even looking at him when he says it. Zayn’s head is pillowed against his chest and Liam is stroking Zayn’s arm while he watches toddlers in tiaras on Netflix. It’s kind of silly and stupid the way it’s all happening because Zayn had pictured the first time being romantic and sort of sentimental – maybe something with a candle lit dinner and roses and Liam looking into Zayn’s eyes.

But it’s sort of perfect the way it happens because Liam says it like it’s plain as day and like Zayn already should have known. He says it like this is the way things are and I kind of already know it’s okay and that you feel exactly as I do because that’s the only way things can really work out. 

Liam laughs at something happening on the television before looking down at where Zayn is leaning against him and pressing a kiss to his hair. He gives Zayn’s arm a firm, yet gentle squeeze before saying “Did you hear me?”

And Zayn laughs as well because this really is exactly how it was supposed to happen. Candle lit dinners and a vase full of roses would have been silly and contrived and everything he and Liam weren’t and never really wanted to be. This was easy and this was simple and this was Liam loving him in the realest way possible.

So Zayn nods and smiles up at Liam, stretching up to kiss him quickly on the mouth. “Yeah,” he answers easily. “I love you, too.”

+

He’s not nearly drunk enough and he’s run out of things to drink, so Zayn shrugs on his leather jacket and starts off for the local pub. There’s a club that’s only a few blocks further but Zayn isn’t sure that he wants all of the noise and the mess of an overzealous young boy who is way too far gone.

When he gets there, Zayn notices an open seat at the end of the bar and takes it, putting his head down on the counter while he waits on the bartender.

“You okay, mate?” Zayn hears a few moments later.

Zayn lifts his head. His eyes look tired, like he hasn’t slept in days, and he shrugs his shoulders and grunts something noncommittal in return. “Just give me a beer, yeah?” Zayn asks. “Or… rum and coke.”

The bartender returns a few moments later with Zayn’s drink and Zayn drops down a ten in exchange for the glass telling the guy to keep the change. He’s just swallowed the first gulp of his drink when Zayn spots him at the other end of the bar.

He’s tall with short brown hair and a face that reminds Zayn of sunshine and he’s smiling at something his friend, a girl who looks to be around the same age with curly blond hair, is saying. This guy looks happy and Zayn can’t help but to notice the way his eyes crinkle around the edges as his smile widens impossibly further and it all reminds him so much of Liam. It hurts with how much it reminds him of Liam.

Zayn watches as the blond places a hand on not-Liam’s shoulder and presses a kiss to his cheek before standing up and walking out of the pub. She’s only been gone for a little over a minute when not-Liam’s face falls and he just looks sad; like the weight of the world has just been dropped on his shoulders and he doesn’t know how to carry it.

And, Zayn just wants to help. He isn’t sure what makes him feel this way, but it’s the first time he’s felt much of anything and all he wants to do is put that impossibly bright smile back on that boy’s face.

+

Being with Liam was red. That was the only way Zayn really knew how to describe it. It was intense and romantic and angry and real.

Zayn would look at Liam and feel this pull at his chest and he’d want to reach out and touch him just because he could and he was allowed and he wanted everyone to know. He wanted Liam to know and he wanted the world to know that they belonged to each other and nobody else.

It wasn’t like Liam didn’t know. Liam knew and when Zayn smiled, Liam smiled back. Liam gave just as much as he got and he never failed to tell Zayn or to show him. It was never an issue of being unsure so much as it was an issue of nobody knowing. Or…

The thing was, everyone loved Liam.

Everyone loved Liam and Zayn understood because there was nothing not to love. Liam was beautiful and perfect and everything anyone could want in anything.

People wanted to touch Liam and talk to Liam and get to know him and steal a little piece of him that they could keep wrapped up in themselves for as long as they were breathing.

And Liam was happy to oblige. He was more than happy to offer a friendly smile or a hug or a kiss on the cheek. He would blush at the sound of a compliment and he was gracious and kind and everything he should be. It really wasn’t his fault.

But it was so red. So fucking red.

Everyone wanted a piece and Zayn felt like Liam was just giving himself away; handing himself off because that was the kind thing to do and Liam was always taught to share. But Zayn didn’t want to. He could see the look in their eyes when they looked at Liam. They looked at Liam like they wanted him. Sometimes Zayn even caught people staring the way he used to before that night in the hotel room and the ice cream and the quiet kisses they’d shared beneath the blankets. Zayn saw it and he knew.

And Liam was just giving himself away, bit by bit, and Zayn was wondering how much of him would be left over.

Being with Liam was red because it’s what Zayn saw on a daily basis. It wasn’t all anger. At least not in the beginning. In the beginning it was just Liam and his fingers on Zayn’s skin and his breath in his ear as he whispered things that made Zayn’s toes curl and his heart skip a couple of beats.

It was Liam lying on sweat dampened sheets and letting Zayn cover him completely and being so very open and trusting.

It was Liam wrapping his arms around Zayn’s neck that very first time and burying his face in the curve of Zayn’s neck and tracing his fingers over the tattoo at the top of Zayn’s spine and his lips dragging over overheated skin as Liam whispered that he was glad it was Zayn.

( _“I’ve never done this before. Not with a guy, at least” and then a deep breath, an exhale and everything is warmer, almost to the point where it should be uncomfortable but Zayn has never felt more content. “I’ve never done this before but I’m glad it’s with you; I want it to always be you.”)_

Before it was Liam’s eyes slipping shut and shuddery gasps of air and tense fingers that dug bruises into Zayn’s skin. Bruises that he wanted to keep forever. Bruises that Zayn sucked into Liam’s collarbone and behind his ear where he couldn’t possibly hide it and the next day when the guys caught sight of them, it was the blush on Liam’s cheeks as he ducked his head and chanced a glance over in Zayn’s direction.

And then there was the teasing and the pats on the back from the other guys and Liam curving into Zayn’s side and they were happy.

It was always red, but it wasn’t always angry.

It’s just that it was Liam and Liam wanted him and he loved him and Zayn had never had that before. Sure, people called him pretty and maybe sometimes people wanted to touch him too, but they never  _wanted_ him; not like Liam did.

And Zayn wanted Liam too and he wanted to keep that feeling of Liam wanting him to himself and that was just so hard to do when people looked at Liam the way they did and with Liam giving part of himself away to every person he met because…

Well, Zayn just wanted Liam for himself.

It was selfish and it was childish and the feelings Zayn could feel welling up inside of him were so ugly but it was the truth and it was so fucking red.

Suddenly it wasn’t just about the confessions whispered into Zayn’s skin or the fingers dancing over the lines of his tattoos. It wasn’t Just about Liam lying open and willing and trusting or hovering over Zayn like he wanted to protect him; wrap Zayn up in his arms and hold him for as long as the earth kept spinning.

That was part of it, but it got to the point where it was only a minor piece of the puzzle.

Soon it was all about the marks sucked into Liam’s skin and feeling Liam’s body beneath his own or the weight of it pressing Zayn into the bed. Soon it was about the way Liam’s flesh felt when Zayn held tight onto his hips as he fucked into him; the way Liam’s body opened up for him and the sick, twisted sense of comfort Zayn found in knowing he was the only one.

Soon it became everything it was before and even more but for all the wrong reasons.

And it was red. Everything was so fucking red.

+

The boy’s name is Ryan and he goes to university and he doesn’t know much about the band nor does he really care because Ryan likes underground music and street art and artistic photographs of girls dying in bathtubs filled with soapy water and rose petals.

Ryan also just broke up with his boyfriend of three years and he doesn’t know what to do with himself so he’s drowning his sorrows in cheap liquor at his local pub.

“Pretty fucking sorry, ain’t it?” He asks, downing the rest of his drink as he offers Zayn a self-deprecating smile.

Zayn shrugs his shoulders, hums something noncommittal and finishes off his own drink. He doesn’t say so out loud but he thinks it’s the only honest thing Ryan has said to him all night.

“You probably think I’m stupid,” Ryan says. “Sitting here crying over a boy who never really loved me in the first place. You know what he said? He told me he didn’t know what he was doing; that guys weren’t really his thing anymore and he was going through a phase when he was with me. Three years?” Ryan scoffs. “Three fucking years and…”

And then Zayn isn’t quite listening anymore because he really doesn’t care anymore. This wasn’t Liam and it was never going to be Liam. This kid was just a boy in a bar who smiled and reminded Zayn of something he once had and Zayn was just feeling vulnerable and lonely and willing to accept anyone who had any sort of chance of filling that void in his chest that was constantly aching.

And Zayn just feels so empty.

“Come home with me,” Zayn says.

Ryan stops mid-sentence and raises his brow. “Is that what this is?”

Zayn shrugs his shoulders. “Could be.”

He knows it’s a bad idea; that Ryan is just a boy in a bar who can’t do anything other than offer Zayn a warm body to touch and pass out next to. He knows that when he wakes up in the morning either Ryan won’t be there or Zayn is going to be wishing that he wasn’t. It doesn’t matter how many times he does this or how many times Zayn is faced with the fact that maybe he’s just going to be empty until he decides to try and do something meaningful; something that doesn’t involve cheap drinks and even cheaper sex.

But this boy smiles and it reminds Zayn of a time before only his heart doesn’t skip a beat and he doesn’t feel warm all over so much as he does cold.

Ryan smiles and it reminds Zayn of Liam only it also kind of doesn’t.

“I probably shouldn’t.” Ryan says slowly.

“But you want to,” Zayn tells him.

Ryan bites down on his bottom lip, twists and turns the skin between his teeth.

“Okay.”

+

There’s this guy at the club and he’s tall and dark and handsome and he’s been staring at Liam the entire night.

 The good thing is that Liam has hardly noticed him. He’s caught him staring a few times and he might have offered a nervous smile when he caught the guy grinning seductively in his direction, but for the most part Liam has been sipping on drinks and pressing himself into Zayn’s side the entire night.

But Zayn has noticed and the eyes and the tongue dragging over this guy’s lips is really starting to get to him because, even if Liam doesn’t notice and even if Liam doesn’t care, Zayn does and he doesn’t like the ideas he knows this guy is getting.

“Look at that guy,” Louis says with a laugh, titling his head in the onlooker’s direction. “He’s been eyeing you all night, Liam.”

Zayn can see the blush creeping onto Liam’s cheeks as he shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. I doubt it.”

Zayn sighs, downs the rest of his beer and runs a hand through his hair.

“Well, one thing I do know is boyfriend over there doesn’t like the way your friend is looking at you,” Louis offers.

Liam glances over at Zayn, sees the frown on his mouth and the way his eyebrows and knitted together. He steps in, crowding Zayn’s space a little because he knows Zayn will like the proximity and places a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Zayn lifts his gaze and, upon seeing the concern in Liam’s eyes, forces a smile. “Yeah,” he says. “Fine. Just thinking.”

“You sure?” Liam asks.

Zayn is just about to answer when some top 40 hit begins to play and he and Liam both hear Harry shout something about being his favorite song. Liam laughs and before he knows it Harry is pulling him away from Zayn saying something about how Louis doesn’t feel like dancing anymore so he’s drafting Liam instead.

Zayn almost tells him not to go, but he doesn’t want to give Liam any reason to think that he isn’t okay so he motions for him to go on and dance with Harry. “I’ll be waiting here when you’re done.”

And then Liam and Harry are dancing.

And that guy is still staring and he’s licking his lips and he’s slowly making his way across the dance floor and he’s still fucking staring and Zayn just knows what’s coming next.

And it’s red. It’s all so red.

+

Ryan is nice and he’s kind of funny and he touches Zayn like he means it. It isn’t quite like all the others who felt rushed and needy and like Zayn was nothing but a warm body they can press themselves into and use to make themselves feel good.

Ryan made Zayn believe that he wanted to be there with him; When Ryan climbed on top of him, crowding his personal space as he attached his lips to Zayn’s shoulder, up to his collarbone, and finally to his mouth, he made Zayn feel wanted; maybe even a little needed.

Ryan made Zayn feel like he was the only one and maybe that was what made him a little special.

Zayn didn’t feel quite as numb as before. He didn’t feel as alone. Zayn could feel the fingers on his skin and the lips whispering dirty things against his ear. It wasn’t just phantom touches that Zayn could only vaguely remember the following morning. Ryan was there and he was present and he made Zayn feel as though he were there too instead of being somewhere a million miles away thinking about a boy who probably didn’t love him anymore.

And perhaps that was why it hurt so much.

Ryan was there. It wasn’t the same as being with Liam, because nothing and nobody could ever be Liam, but it was close enough and every time Ryan gasped out Zayn’s name, or gripped his hips a little tighter as he fucked Zayn into his cheap thrift store mattress Zayn was reminded of how close this was; how, if he were to close his eyes and try hard enough, he could almost feel Liam’s breath ghosting over the nape of his neck as he pressed his chest into Zayn’s back.

Suddenly Zayn is shaking. He can feel the pressure of fresh tears behind his eyes and his chest is aching and Ryan is still fucking into him and groaning something about Zayn being “so fucking beautiful” and “god you’re so tight around my cock”

And Zayn is sobbing. It’s a wave of tears and with the way his body is convulsing it almost looks as though he’s coming, but then Ryan hears him gasping for breath and the weak sounds of Zayn choking on snot and saliva.

“Are you—Zayn?”

Zayn wipes his nose even though he knows it won’t do much of anything and he shakes his head. “No, just – just go, okay? I don’t want to talk about it so can you just… I’m sorry.”

Ryan’s thumbs dig into Zayn’s sides when he pulls out and Zayn doesn’t even bother with watching him as he gets dressed, slips on his shoes, and makes his way to the front door.

“Just tell me – are you okay?” He asks. “I’d feel like a total asshole if I didn’t at least make sure you were okay.”

Zayn doesn’t look up, just stares at where his tears have soaked his sheets. Finds patterns in the small pool of snot that has dripped from his nose. It’s really pretty disgusting, but he distracts him from the thought of how so much has changed and how everything is essentially his fault.

“I don’t know. Probably not,” Zayn answers. “But I kind of hope I will be.”

+

Zayn didn’t really remember much of what happened.

Harry said he punched that guy in the face; that between all the “fucks” and the “shits” and the “assholes” he said something about the guy being a slimy bastard who needed to “learn his fucking place.”

Zayn couldn’t quite remember any of it because the only thing that seemed to stick out in his mind was Liam’s face and how frightened he had looked; the way Liam had looked at Zayn as though he wasn’t the best friend he’d managed to fall in love with, but someone he hardly even knew.

That was the scariest part of it all because Zayn couldn’t even blame him. Zayn didn’t know the guy he was the night before either.

“He won’t even talk to me,” Zayn said, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve called him and left dozens of messages and he won’t call me back and I don’t—”

“Calm down, mate,” Harry told him. “Just give him time. He’s probably still a bit freaked out and doesn’t know what to say.”

“He could at least let me explain myself though…”

Harry didn’t say anything because, in a sense, Zayn was right. Liam had just left without so much as a single word and, sure, Zayn was wrong, but that doesn’t mean his actions should be met with complete silence. But Harry also knows how scary it was to see Zayn, who is usually so calm and in control of himself, lash out at a person the way he had at the club the previous night. Harry also knows the fear that had filled Liam’s eyes and how he’d just needed to get away from the chaos and the bass that was constantly pounding in his ears.

“He’ll come around,” Harry said. “He’s just… he needs time.”

Zayn just looked at him. He wasn’t so sure. There was this sinking feeling in his gut that told him it was over. He’d had a good thing and he’d fucked it up just like he’d anticipated that he would. People like Zayn didn’t get to keep people like Liam. Even if Liam had wanted him at some point, Zayn wasn’t as good. He was angry and insecure and he cared way more than he should have.

Harry could see the insecurity in Zayn and he offered that smile of his that never failed to brighten anybody’s day. Even in that moment, it sort of worked. “Cheer up. You and Liam will work it out; you’re meant for each other.”

Zayn forced a smile and nodded his head. He hoped.

+

Zayn still has the note he found on the coffee table that day he got back from the market. IT was about a week after the incident in the club and it was also the first he’d heard from Liam since then. It was a simple post-it, stuck to the glass of the table. It was nothing special or anything to make note of, but it still managed to send Zayn’s world crashing down all around him.

~~_It’s over._ ~~

~~_I can’t._ ~~

_I’m sorry._

Zayn doesn’t say anything. He just sits on the floor and pulls his knees into his chest and cries for thirty minutes. And then everything hurts too much. He feels too much and Zayn just wants to be numb, so he grabs a bottle from the fridge and drains it dry. It’s nice because Zayn feels warm all over and his body is sort of tingly and he’s not exactly inside of himself, but he is.

Zayn’s mind drifts to the club and he can’t help but to laugh. He’d beaten him up; Zayn had won the fight, but he lost Liam and for all he knew Liam could be ‘round fucking that asshole from the club right now just because he can and Zayn is lying on their living room floor drunk out of his mind having some cheap out of body experience.

Zayn could be fucking someone too.

Zayn should be fucking someone too.

So he does.

+

It’s about a week after Ryan and Zayn sitting on the steps outside of his apartment smoking a cigarette. He’d rather be inside but that couple is fucking again and Zayn doesn’t really feel like listening.

He doesn’t recognize him at first, but then he does and Zayn isn’t even sure what he’s doing here.

But then Liam is stopping in front of him, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie. His smile is awkward and he doesn’t quite meet Zayn’s eyes when he speaks.

“Hey.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything, only exhales smoke before he’s putting his cigarette out against the cement. He looks at Liam, takes in his appearance, and he can’t help but to think about how good Liam looks and how shitty and not-put together he must appear in his sweatpants and the plain white t-shirt he’s been wearing for the past three days.

“I uh… Harry and Lou told me you were staying here. They said you sold the apartment.”

Zayn shrugs his shoulders. He didn’t really like staying in his old apartment after Liam left because everything there reminded him of before. Even if Liam had taken all of his things and it was basically back to the way it was before he and Liam ever got together, Liam was still there in the walls and between the fibers of his couch and his sheets. Liam was everywhere and Zayn was really growing tired of the reminder.

“Your new place is – do you like it?”

Zayn looks up, his eyes narrowed. This is Liam’s way of asking why he chose such a shitty apartment in such a shitty neighborhood without quite having to say the words. Its condescending and insulting even if the apartment is subpar. Zayn knows he could do better but he chooses not because he doesn’t feel the need to live somewhere that’s only going to remind him of a life he used to live.

Maybe this is Zayn punishing himself, he doesn’t know, but Liam really doesn’t have any right to judge.

“I like it fine,” Zayn says shortly.

Liam nods, noting the finality in Zayn’s voice. “Okay,” he says. “I get it. I shouldn’t have come.”

He starts to walk away, but Zayn’s voice stops him.

“Then why did you?”

“What?”

Zayn shrugs his shoulders when Liam turns around. “If you knew you shouldn’t have come, then why did you?”

Liam sighs, rubs a hand over his hair. “Because… this… Harry said you were in a bad place and we haven’t spoken in forever and the group is suffering and I just want things – I want us to be okay. I know we can’t go back to before and that things will never be the same, but I don’t want this.”

“You chose this,” Zayn tells him. “You left without a single word and then broke up with me over a fucking post-it note, Liam.”

“And I’m sorry.”

“You don’t get to be sorry,” Zayn says, standing up.

This isn’t how he imagined things. He’d thought the next time he saw Liam he would feel relief and happiness and like he could finally explain himself, but now all Zayn feels is anger and resentment. Zayn knows he fucked up, but Liam did too and it’s like everything is still being placed on him. Everything is his fault.

“I was scared,” Liam says before Zayn can step back into his apartment building. “Of you and what you did and I didn’t know what to do. I’d never seen you like that before and it scared me.”

Zayn’s hand is on the handle to the door and it would be so easy to ignore Liam’s words and walk away. Maybe just walk away from everything altogether because with the way things are and the way they seem to be going it isn’t like there will be much to go back to. With him and Liam not really speaking the band can’t do much of anything and maybe Zayn doesn’t want to be famous anymore.

But then Zayn remembers Ryan and how he’d wanted to make sure Zayn was okay and how he didn’t really have to. It would have been so much easier for Ryan to have just left like Zayn had asked him to, but he’d stayed and he’d asked and, upon hearing Zayn’s answer made the decision to stay a few hours longer and hold him for a few hours while he cried.

Zayn isn’t okay, but he wants to be and you can’t get anywhere unless you try.

“I was scared too, you know,” Zayn says, not turning around. “Of you and me and what that meant. I was afraid of losing you all the time. I know that you loved me, I never doubted that, but I was… you love people so easily, Liam. You give so much of yourself to everyone you meet and I was afraid that you’d meet someone else and love them too and you’d hand yourself over without even realizing.”

“I wouldn’t—” Liam cuts himself off. “I loved you; I never would have left you.”

When Zayn laughs its dry and bitter. “But you did. And you never even really told me why.”

It’s quiet for a few moments before Zayn turns around and sees the way Liam’s standing awkwardly in the middle of the sidewalk. He can still feel that pull in his chest that always seems to make itself known whenever Liam is around. Zayn still loves him even though he’s angry and hurt.

And he hates that. He hates it so much.

+

_“Why do you do it?” Ryan asked him, rubbing circles into Zayn’s naked back._

_“Do what?”_

_“Drink. Fuck people. Self-sabotage. Cry.” He stops rubbing Zayn’s back and slides it up to give Zayn’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as if to tell him that he doesn’t mean anything bad by the question. He’s just curious. “Why run from your problems when you can just face them?”_

_Zayn shrugs, reaches up to wipe at his eyes, at the snot resting on his upper lip. “I don’t know… I guess it’s just easier to face the world when you’re not really living in it.”_

_Ryan silently nods his head, then leans over to look at Zayn. He’s really looking at him and Zayn thinks it’s the first time anyone has really seen him for the person he’s truly become._

_“That may be true,” Ryan says. “But can you really call that living?”_

+

“Come in,” Zayn says, nodding toward the apartment building. Liam is still standing at the center of the sidewalk and Zayn isn’t sure of what he’s saying until the words have already left his mouth. “I’ll make us some coffee… we can talk or something, okay?”

Liam nods, looks both ways as if he’s crossing the street before following Zayn into the building. He isn’t sure of what he’s doing or why he’s inviting Liam inside or even if it’s a good idea. He just knows that up until that moment everything had been a mess, and it still sort of was, but at least now Zayn was attempting to do something about it.

He keeps thinking of Ryan and what he’d told him and Zayn thinks he’s tired of hiding out on the outside. Zayn is tired of running away, he was tired and he didn’t really want to be numb anymore.

Zayn thinks that maybe he wants to live again.  


End file.
